The Closet
by xxdiexforxyouxx
Summary: I don't think I can summarize it without giving away the plot, so... Let's just say that I've been neglecting my other stories, and you get this instead of an update. I think it's pretty okayish. Much love, XxdiexforxyouxX
1. Chapter 1

Harry sighed in pleasure as Draco's hand drifted through his hair, brushing the strands back and tracing his nails lightly over his sensitive scalp. He loved every moment he spent with the blonde, but his favorites were the moments like these, when they had nothing but time and he could lay his head on his lovers lap and simply be petted for hours. Drowsy and content, he opened his eyes to gaze up at him, taking in the deep grey eyes intensely focused on him, the fair blonde hair glowing in the light from the fire, and Draco's affectionate smirk warming him from the inside in ways no fire could. _Surely this was heaven…_

Lost in sensation and in eyes like a storm at sea, it took him a few moments to notice that the light had changed, growing brighter and more demanding. Distracted as they were, the voice echoing from the head that now filled the flaming hearth made them both flinch reflexively towards their wands before recognizing it.

"Harry! Oh- Hi, Draco," Hermione said, her voice surprised but polite as ever, bushy hair bobbing as the fire danced behind her. "I was just calling to invite you two to dinner tomorrow, at the house? I didn't realize you were busy. I'm sorry. I'll just-"

"It's fine, Hermione," Harry said, sitting up reluctantly, the blonde beneath him now stiff and withdrawn. "I should have warded the fireplace if I didn't want calls, right? What's up?"

She grinned at him, the slightest hint of apprehension fading gratefully from her face. Draco leaned away from Harry casually, as though he had no right to be pressed so intimately against his boyfriend of a year, with his arms wrapped so affectionately around him and his face so unguarded. _Or as though he doesn't want to be seen that way with me…_ Harry shook his head to clear it of the unpleasant thought, turning his attention back to Hermione's expectant presence. _One thing at a time, Potter,_ he lectured himself, plastering on a grin for his friends sake in spite of his nagging doubts. "Dinner, huh? What's the occasion?"

"No special reason," Hermione said quickly, her face flushing in an uncharacteristic blush. "We just miss you, Harry. We'd like to have you and Draco over. You know, to catch up?"

Harry looked at his friend for a moment, then snorted. "I know you better than that, Hermione. You're blushing. You never blush! What's really going on?"

She blushed again, looking at him shyly through her bangs, eyes gleaming with excitement. "Oh, Harry, I should have known you would notice. Well, we wanted to wait, but… Oh, we're so excited! I'm pregnant!" The joy in her tone was contagious, and Harry felt himself grin, a momentary respite from the grim suspicions he'd entertained mere moments ago.

"Oh Hermione, that's great! Congratulations!"

She beamed at him, eyes positively swimming. "So will you come?"

Draco spoke up from the corner of the couch he'd been sulking in- _handsomely occupying, _Harry corrected himself mentally. _Malfoys don't sulk_- breaking his silence for the first time in the conversation. "Congratulations, Granger," he said generously, plastering on a smile that almost seemed sincere. "The world certainly needed another ginger. Unfortunately, we cannot see you tomorrow, as we have a previous engagement planned. Perhaps another time?"

Hermione's face fell, and Harry turned to face his boyfriend, upset. "Draco, what-?"

"It's okay, Harry, we understand," Hermione said quickly, shaking her head, "Maybe Sunday, then? We're inviting the family over to tell them the news."

Harry smiled at his friend, silent gratitude for her and all she did filling him with love. It wasn't the first time she'd sacrificed her pride to keep the peace between the two sides of his life. "Of course, 'Mione, I'll be there. Thank you." She smiled back at him, and he knew his message had been received and he was forgiven.

"Draco, you should come too," Hermione said. "We'd like you to feel welcome." She smiled shyly at him, once again extending the hand of friendship to the still-hostile blonde in the spirit of family. Harry felt his heart clench, knowing she did this for him, and not for the first time. Draco had turned down several invitations from the Weasley-Grangers, always claiming to have made other plans, and he knew it cost his friends to keep offering their hospitality when his boyfriend kept rejecting them so disdainfully. Expecting a rude response, he was quite surprised when Draco instead leaned towards the fire, a surprisingly non-menacing smile on his face.

"Certainly, Granger, I shall check my schedule and make the appropriate adjustments. I thank you for the invitation." He said, his voice shockingly devoid of its usual snideness, sounding positively sincere and even almost _warm_. _Was Draco being __**nice**__? _"It was most gracious of you to offer. And once again, congratulations on your pregnancy."

Harry and Hermione exchanged shocked glances, momentarily stunned by the blondes out-of-character attitude, before Hermione turned and smiled gratefully at Draco. "Thank you," she said softly, "It would mean a lot to us. Goodnight, Harry, Draco." Without waiting for a response, she closed the floo, leaving only flame-licked logs behind.


	2. Chapter 2

In the sudden suffocating silence that filled the room, Harry turned to his boyfriend, licking nervously at his lips. "Draco…" He began softly, "Did you accept her offer just so you can cancel later and hurt them? That isn't okay."

The blonde gave him an injured look, sliding back to his former closeness. "Potter, you wound me," he purred, wrapping his arms around his lover, "Would I _ever_ be so_ mean_?"

Harry groaned, the purr going straight to his groin as Draco had doubtlessly intended, but plowed on determinedly through his arousal. He'd started this, and now he couldn't let Draco distract him from things that needed to be said. "Why did you turn down her offer for tomorrow? We _don't_ have plans. We _never _have plans... And you never go over, especially when the Weasleys are all there. What's going on?" He tried not to sound accusatory, he really did, but as he felt the blonde withdraw he realized- too late- that he had failed. Too many months of worry and heartache had dulled his ability to speak softly on he subject.

"Harry…" Draco said softly, looking away, "Are you angry with me?" His voice sounded broken, a shock when he was normally so strong.

Harry sighed, feeling the confrontation he'd long feared beginning. "It's just… Draco, you've never gone over. Not once. They keep inviting you and you always turn them down, in the rudest ways possible. You won't go there, we can't go out, we just spend all our time together in my house. It's…" He bit his lip, a slight quiver in his voice. "Draco, it's been a year and you still haven't come out. I'm tired of keeping us a secret."

Draco stared down at his hands, hair falling to hide his eyes. He looked like a statue, beautiful and pale and remote, completely withdrawn and a million miles away. With a jolt, Harry realized that he had done what he'd promised himself he'd never do. _He had pushed._ What if he had ruined things…? _I shouldn't have pushed. I don't want him to be so far away._

After a long, tense pause, Draco finally looked up, his eyes shadowed. "Harry…" He began, "I said I'd go Sunday. I said we'd go. I don't understand why you're displeased. Isn't that what you want?" There was a plea in his voice, tugging at Harry's heartstrings until he was sure they'd snap. He wished he could stop, now, wished he'd never started, but it was far too late to take it back.

"I just don't want to hide. Why did you say no?" Harry asked, sounding needy and demanding, knowing and hating it but unable to stop. "Why do you always say no?"

The man he loved looked up at him, eyes shadowed behind his blonde curtain of hair, fists clenched in his lap from tension. "I don't feel welcome," he said bitterly, "I don't feel right there. They don't like me, they just tolerate me for you. I hate it."

"Draco-"

"And I try, I do, but I _don't like it. _No-one's happy when I'm there. I'm not. They aren't. You're too focused on keeping the peace to enjoy yourself. I don't want to _ruin_ it for you. You don't need me there. Why isn't that good enough?" He finished hotly, ignoring Harry's attempted interruption. "Why can't you see that I'm _trying?_"

Harry looked at him for a moment, his chest feeling cold. _Empty_. "The Weasleys are the only ones who know about us, and you aren't even comfortable with that. Sometimes I wonder why you're even with me, if you're so ashamed of me."

Draco looked down again. He spoke softly, flatly. "I really did make plans for tomorrow, Harry. I love you. You know I do."

"Do you." _Neutral. Statement, not a question._

Draco looked at him, sad and hurt and empty, and said nothing. He sat and said nothing until it felt as though years had passed them by, not dulling the bite of words spoken in anger but rather stirring them, fanning them to life. After forever had passed, he stood- still silent- and walked out of the room without a backwards glance. _Alone._

Harry sat there as the silence threatened to consume him, too shocked to respond.

_I ruined it._


	3. Chapter 3

Draco sat on the edge of Blaise's spare bed, waiting silently at his hands as his friend lectured him. Blaise paced in front of him, gesturing wildly as he ranted. "I can't believe this. You… And Potter! Why didn't you ever tell me? How long has this been going on? How could you?" He spun around, fixing Draco with a stern look. "Well?"

Draco sighed, looking up at his friend. "I just… I don't know. I was afraid that if we told everyone, it would ruin it… But I guess I don't have to worry about that anymore. And… A year. I loved him, Blaise. I'm sorry I never told you." He looked down at his hands again, clasped precisely in his lap.

Blaise looked up at the ceiling, wondering if it was love that had changed his friend like this, had made him willing to express his feelings in such a… Gryffindor way, doing away with subtleties and excuses and spilling the whole story without the need for a single threat. After a brief internal struggle, during which he decided that lavender was a terrible color for his ceiling to be painted, he decided to forgive. He'd have to, after all, if he wanted to hear the rest of the story. Not to mention, he could never stay mad at Draco, not after all they'd been through, both during and after the war.

After a long moment of thought, he sat next to Draco and threw an arm around him, hugging him closer when he moved to escape the embrace. "Fuck off, I'll hug you if I want. I haven't seen you in ages. Now, tell me what happened yesterday. What could end a year-long relationship that quick?"

"Well, he wanted me to go over to his abominable friends' pregnancy party… But that's not what the real problem was. He always wanted me to come out, and I wasn't ready to face the publics' wrath again after the harassment over my being a Death Eater had finally calmed down. I wouldn't have been able to leave the house without being accused of corrupting him, ruining him. I didn't think we would make it through that, and I knew I wasn't ready to face it, but… He kept pressuring me, and making me feel awful… And when I finally worked up the courage to do it, for him, he didn't even believe me. It wasn't enough."

Draco's voice was level, empty, void of emotion, but Blaise could tell how wrecked his friend was, could see how attached he'd become to Hero-Boy, little though he deserved it. How could he expect Draco to jump back into the public eye after all he'd been through, when it would put his life at risk? Overwhelmed with sympathy, he petted Draco's silky blonde locks where they fell across his neck, encouraging him silently to continue his story.

He did, finally relaxing in Blaise's arms. "The worst thing is, I was willing to give him the one thing I had left to give- my privacy, my safety. I was ready to give in. And he wouldn't even listen."…


	4. Chapter 4

Harry threw the bottle, feeling a dark satisfaction when it shattered against the wall, staining the rich oak with firewhiskey. He reached for another, almost falling off the couch as he did so, well on his way to being blind drunk.

As soon as Draco left, he'd started drinking, soon getting drunker than he'd been since the end of the war. As he drank, he thought, dark and angry thoughts that burned him and consumed him. The alcohol couldn't keep him from feeling forever, though, and his anger soon turned maudlin and bitter tears spoiled his whiskey.

_Embarrassed to be seen with me, is he? Am I that much of a disappointment? Me? I'm the Boy Who Lived… I can't believe I thought he loved me. I can't believe I ever thought he could change. He's just the same bloody coward he's always been, and now he's gone, and oh god I miss him, and why did I push? I'm so fucking __**stupid**__, and now he's gone…_

Another half-empty bottle hit the wall, the fierce liquor running down to ruin the expensive carpets Draco had bought, claiming they were better to fuck on. _Not like he's around to bitch about it anymore. _Another cap hit the ground, fiery liquid splashing down his angry throat, burning, scorching away the words he couldn't say, not enough to erase the horrible ones he hadn't stopped.

_Draco…_

Laying half-on, half-off the sofa, Harry was startled out of his miserable, drunken haze when an owl flew into the window with a loud bang, flapping its wings impatiently as it waited, demanding entrance. With a curse and a grumble, he dragged himself towards the wall, falling into it, using it to steady himself before reaching to open the window and letting the owl in. He didn't recognize the owl that dropped a package in front of him, holding out its leg forcefully for him to take the letter it carried before flying away without waiting for a response.

Confused and intoxicated, Harry slid down the wall into a sitting position, opening the letter with rough, unsteady jerks.

At the words on the parchment, his eyes blurred with tears.

_I fucked up._


End file.
